This I Do in Rememberance of You
by Benedicta
Summary: (DISCONTINUED) DeanxOC. Slash. Dean lost someone he loved very much so naturally he never thought he'd see him again, but the supernatural has a way of coming back...and bringing trouble along with it. Story discontinued.
1. Prologue

This I Do in Remembrance of You

This is my first time posting slash. Please be nice.

I got tired of Dean/Sam stories so I made one of my own.

Disclaimer: I do not own supernatural in any way, shape, or form, although Dean will always be mine in my dreams.

Before reading I must tell you that some original facts may be changed for my story's sake. COMMAS ARE NOT MY THING!

Pairings: Dean/OC slash, Sam/OC het.

Now, on with the show!

"Dean, stop!" Andrew gasped out during a fit of giggles.

"Why? You seem to be enjoying it." Dean said grinning. He had Andy right where he wanted him. He was straddling him and giving him the biggest tickle attack of the century.

"Yeah, but you'll never get to the store if you don't-aahh!" Andrew broke off when Dean nibbled his neck. Andrew tried pushing his head away, but with no avail.

"Look if you leave now I promise you'll have me when you get back."

Dean stopped his actions

"Promise?" His green (A/N: I'm sure that's the right color) eyes were alight with mischief.

"I promise." He gave him short kiss to finalize it. "Now, get up." He said giving Dean a swift pat on the behind. He got up reluctantly after giving Andrew a swift kiss.

As soon as Andrew was sure he was gone he let his tears flow. Not only was he going to die, he also lied. He had never told Dean of his premonition, in fact Dean knew nothing of them. Yesterday he had seen his own death and it had shaken every part of his being.

Andrew being a believer of fate didn't try to change his premonitions but had simply let them happen and he had decided that his would be no different; he would accept death's cold hands. He had sent Dean to get him some first aid supplies saying that they run out when they actually had plenty. He couldn't let Dean see him die, he didn't want to plague him with that sight, but if he had told Dean he would have tried to prevent it.

Dean, always the hero.

He didn't really know how he would die, in his premonition it looked like a heart attack. So he sat up and waited for the unknown.

After about thirty minutes he saw something creep under the door. A black mist.

He simply waited, no longer afraid. Soon it filled the room like a thick, blinding fog. And he took his first inhale.

The pain was immediate.

It felt like someone was squeezing his heart, crushing his lungs. He fell of the bed in agony, writhing in pain.

It's amazing what comes to mind when you're about to die.

Remember your ninth birthday you wore the silly pointed birthday hat…hat…Cowboy hat. Your dad's cowboy hat. He loved that hat. Never went hunting without it. Hunting in the woods. Oh I know the woods you and Dean used to go there all the time, all alone. If your folks knew what you guys did in those woods they would have killed you…killed you…killed you dead. Dead. Oh my God, the poor kitty is dead! They cut it, tore it limb from limb. There was so much blood…blood…so much blood…so much fire! The house! It's burning down! Down to the ground. The people, they're running…running…leaving…leaving…like my… oxygen…like…my air… can't….breath…

After a few short gasping breaths there's no other sound in the room. Quiet. So quiet. Dead silent. No sound will heard until the door opens twenty minutes later and soon gasping sobs will be heard.

Yes the silence will break soon.

Somewhere else a little girl giggles after she hears the last heartbeat and her eyes turn white, alight with gee.

Review pleeze!


	2. A Resting Place Disturbed

This I Do in Remembrance of You

Dean guessed it was a ritual, whether it was unhealthy, he didn't know. Some psychiatrists would say he had a problem, but to him…

It was pain medicine.

The visitation routine had been imbedded in his clockwork, he knew when the time was near.

He bit into a Hershey's bar, it was Andrew's favorite treat.

He'd left Sam at the hotel, sleeping, he'd salted the doors and widows just in case. Sammy had to be protected. Sammy was all he had.

Why did he do this? Every year, going to South Carolina to see the grave of someone long dead.

He turned on the radio.

_You know I never  
I never seen you look so good  
You never act the way you should  
But I like it  
And I know you like it too  
The way that I want you  
I gotta have you  
Oh yes, I do_

He grinned. That song had history. It was the song that was playing while he and Andrew introduced the Impala to their love.

_You know I never  
I never ever stay out late  
You know that I can hardly wait  
Just to see you  
And I know you cannot wait  
Wait to see me too  
I gotta touch you_

He could still remember the fogged windows and rocking of the car.

'_Cause baby we'll be  
At the drive-in  
In the old mans ford  
Behind the bushes  
Till I'm screamin' for more  
Down the basement  
Lock the cellar door  
And baby  
Talk dirty to me_

He could even smell his cologne.

_You know I call you  
I call you on the telephone  
I__'m only hoping that you're home  
So, I can hear you  
When you say those words to me  
And-_

Dean turned the radio off as he parked near the cemetery fence. When he got out of the car he felt the light summer breeze upon his face. He opened the gate smoothly, the place was never locked. He walked along lines of tombstones bedecked with "Devoted Wife", "Loving Father", the usual bull, all declaring who had died.

Dean found his destination at the far corner: a regular sized tombstone slightly shadowed by a willow tree.

He got down on bended knee in front of it. He laughed aloud. Andrew's tombstone made everyone do that.

_Andrew Tyler Moore_

_Will not be back after these messages._

Dean had seen the thing many times, but it still made him laugh. Andrew had told his father and Dean that that was what he wanted on his grave. And both men, who had loved him dearly, did exactly that.

He traced the name, feeling the marble engraving against his fingertips. He didn't even cry anymore, save a few good tears.

The air rippled.

Dean tensed. He had felt something, he was sure of it. He looked around, ready for any danger. The air cleared again then there was nothing but plain old night. Dean decided it was time to leave so he pulled himself up and started on his walk to the Impala.

~*~

Dean was walking down a cracked sidewalk not really knowing where he was going. Weed overran the broken cement making it seem like a jungle path.

He came upon an open yard full of dead flowers, but that wasn't the weird part. The dead flowers were in neat rows. He stepped in and walked in between them. The dead grass made dry crackling sounds under his feet. "_This seems familiar"_,Dean thought. As if expecting something he looked up and in the corner was a dead willow tree. It wasn't the regular willow, it was a weeping willow, and someone was under digging for something.

It looked like an old woman, but she dug so swiftly you could have sworn she was 20. Dean wanted to ask her what she was doing, he was unable to speak. The woman stopped her digging and pulled something out, something that seemed to be a Hershey's candy bar…

The dream faded.

Dean woke up with a start, put on some clothes and drove to the cemetery. He ran down the rows of graves to Andrew's.

The ground was open and to coffin was empty.


	3. In the Flesh

This I Do In Remembrance of You

Hi guys, sorry I haven't written in so long someone stole my flash drive when I had finally completed the third chapter, I was so mad!

So then I had to start from scratch, *sigh* oh well.

If Sam seems like a flunky I apologize in advance.

A couple of special thanks to:

Kevin Edwards for supporting me in my writing and for co-writing with me on many projects.

BloodyRoseSharpThorn for giving me the one word that turned my few words into 5 Microsoft Word pages over night: Update.

And to everyone else who actually took the time to read and review this story

I love you all!

Now on with the show!

Even when he was going at a speed of almost 70 Dean thought he couldn't go fast enough. Someone had stolen Andrew's body (or something is more likely) and he was sure that Sam knew what it was. He cursed repeatedly over the fact that their hotel was too far from the graveyard he made plans to get a hotel that was closer in the future.

After what seemed like a millennia to Dean he finally made it to the infamous Far Away Hotel (A/N: Pardon the pun. XD) he took the stairs in twos and almost became bosom friends with the door. When he was finally able to find the key he let himself inside.

He made his way over to the sleeping form of his brother and shook him awake.

"What the hell, Dean." he said, waking up after a few good shakes.

Dean didn't even waste time to look apologetic.

"I need you to look something up for me."

~*~

_"The Tumulus Ereptor is an ogress who is fond of beauty, flowers, and trees. She feeds on wandering souls. She robs graves for the remains of the once beautiful to rejuvenate them and display for her viewing pleasure, like a doll. This rejuvenation is achieved by performing the Replenishing ritual in which the result is a healthy looking, but lifeless human being. She is commonly found in her hand made tunnels under flower fields and the only way to kill her is to destroy the flower that holds her soul."_

When Sam was finished reading he asked his brother what he needed this for, the look on Dean's face bothered him, so that meant something was definitely wrong. It took a while for Dean to answer, he looked as if he was deep in troubled thought. After a bit a look of realization crossed his features and turned to look at Sam as if he had not been there before.

"Do you remember Andrew?" he asked.

"Of course I do," he answered "how could I forget, he was only constant friend we had, and his dad made it seem like we actually had a… a… a parent."

Dean winced. He remembered Rodger, Andrew's dad, and he did everything within his power to make his life hell, treatment, he realized later, that he did not deserve.

"Something took his remains and I think this thing did it."

"How do you know if his remains were stolen," Sam asked "you didn't go out in the middle of the night on a hunch did you?"

Dean avoided the question.

"Are you gonna help me or are you just gonna stay here?" he said defensively.

"For Andrew, yes I'll definitely help."

"Well get dressed and let's go."

~*~

They arrived at the McCarron field. It was the only flower field in town so it made sense to look here. The flowers bent their head in the night wind as if they were mourning.

_'The flowers understand.'_ Dean thought.

"How will we know where the tunnels are?" Dean asked.

"I guess we have to walk around until one of us falls down a hole."

Dean stared at him for a minute.

"That was the most uneducated thing I have ever heard you say."

"Well do you have a better idea?"

Dean thought a moment.

"What else does this thing like?" he said eventually.

"Well it said she liked beautiful things, flowers, and trees.

"So maybe the way in is marked by a tree."

They both looked around.

"There!" Sam said, pointing to the only there.

It was a tall oak and was certainly older than all the senior citizens in town. The trunk was thick and held many knots and holes from animals past.

They made their way to the tree, Dean in the lead. They look around roots and found a hole framed by the roots.

Dean went inside, but Sam stayed where he was. The younger had noticed something. Somewhere in this medley of adventure they had switched roles. His Oxford trained mind was lagging behind causing him to a bit irrational and not think thoroughly while Dean was now showing excellent thinking skills. He wondered what caused this change in his older brother.

But Dean interrupted his thoughts.

"Hey you comin' down or what?"

Sam shook his head and followed.

~*~

Meanwhile, in a chamber underground, the ogress was preparing for the ritual. The room smelled of damp earth and old remains. Empty vials and stray bones littered the earthen floor.

The ogress was now at her table, placing her newfound bones in correct skeletal order.

_"Dirt over my head and under my feet,"_

She sang.

_"Pumpkin as my special seat._

_Roots decorate my house of clay._

_Dotted with pebbles of the dullest grey._

_And if you ask: do I fair well._

_"I'll say I'm fine, because I'm right between heaven and hell."_

She cackled after the last throaty line. She was excited to the core of her old bones. When she saw the vision of the young man he used to be as she read his grave marker she knew she had to have him. She would soon have a new addition to her beauties and in celebration she was going to feast on fresh souls, treat herself a little. The little balls of light quivered as if they knew they were on the menu that night. These souls were hesitant to move on in the beginning, but after being trapped by the ogress to sate her hunger they would have moved on if she hadn't bound them to her lair.

She stroked the bones fondly.

"Soon you will be mine."

~*~

They had traveled the tunnel until they came to a door. They stood on either side, guns at the ready. Dean reached out and slowly turned the handle. The room was bright, so bright that it left you temporarily blind. When they adjusted to the light and realized what was in the room they couldn't believe their eyes.

There were shelves lining the hall walls and on those shelves were people; men, women and children. Fresh and fleshy, but immobile. It was hard looking at them. When one is in a room with a lot of people one expects to hear talking and breathing. It was dead silent. Dean paused to look at a little girl. Her face was heart shaped and rosy and her brown was done in the cutest of pigtails and to finish the effect she was dressed in a little sailor outfit. Dean started to feel dread, he never knew that the ritual was this convincing. He started to run toward the end, the empty shells were nothing but blurs in the corner of his eyes. He could hear Sam calling, but he did not stop. He had to get there before the ritual for if he were to lay eyes on that once again beautiful face he wouldn't be able to take it.

~*~

She raised her withered hands to the earthen ceiling as if asking for mercy, but that was far from it. She began chant in low Latin her wrinkled lips articulated each sound with reverence. As the chanting began the room's atmosphere seem to grow thick like a muggy day, the trapped souls quivered in fear. The walls began to shake and grow soft like pudding convulsing and making waves like muddy water.

Soon she reached the climax of her blasphemous prayer and clay shot from the walls, coating every bone on the table and shaping itself.

At this time Dean and Same made it through the door. The ogress was so caught up in her spell that she didn't even notice them. They hid behind a large wardrobe and looked at the table since it seemed to have the most activity and watched as the now shaped clay began to change to a peach like skin color.

"Oh no." Dean breathed; he could recognize that color anywhere.

Blond hair grew out of the scalp, framing the now peach face. At this point the air lightened, the souls calmed down, and the walls turned still. She lowered her hands and look at her product. The skin was a perfect shade of peach and his hair was smoothed and framed his rosy face. She lifted the eyelid to find a grey-blue iris staring lifelessly back at her.

Dean saw her hands start to wander down the body. This did not sit well with him. Any further outraged thoughts were interrupted by Sam.

"What do you think we should do now?" he whispered.

"Look for a flower, that's what we need."

Sam turned his head to find the flower, Dean still glaring daggers.

"There it is." Sam said pointing at an ornamental pot with a gorgeous gardenia.

"Can you shoot it from here?" Sam asked.

"Maybe." Dean said taking his aim. When he was sure he pulled the trigger, but as he shot the trigger he saw the old hag actually give Andrew's lower region a squeeze, this act of disrespect caused Dean's shot to be off which made the bullet miss the flower.

The ogress stopped her groping and looked around, eyes wide with fear and alert. The tried their best to hide, trying to pull all their limbs behind the wardrobe (Sam's long legs caused a massive problem), but the movement was soon spotted and she let out an angry cry. The hunters figured since they were spotted anyway to go ahead and leave their hiding place.

(Very lame dialogue alert.)

"Ok hag, reverse the spell." Dean said, trying not to look at the body.

(See?)

She gave him a look of incredulity and laughed.

"I can't, it's permanent, and besides," she said dreamily, touching the golden bangs "who would want to?"

"Well then hand it over," commanded Sam. "we'll put it where it belongs."

Dean didn't like the sound of "it".

Her voice grew low with menace. "And what if I don't?"

"We get to do a little gardening." replied the shorter hunter, pointing his gun toward the cherished plant.

She looked between the two, eyes going from one then the other.

"Kill them!"

The walls started to shake violently, and soon what looked like mud men were coming out of the walls.

"Don't ruff them up too bad, I want to put them in my collection."

Soon they were both surrounded individually by three mud men. The smell was overwhelming; they smelled of decay and centuries of animal waste. One gave Sam a left hook, which he blocked easily but the added rocks and viscosity of the mud's composition with the force behind it hurt his arm and gave him a nasty whelp. Meanwhile, Dean's attackers decided not to hit him, at least, not with their own hands. Many of them had taken to picking up anything they could find and taking wild swings. Dean dodged every shot, but knew that if it kept going like this he would be exhausted.

He needed a plan.

He looked around for the flower and soon found it still sitting in its beautiful little pot. He bobbed and weaved every shot while bringing them a little bit closer…

Sam took a moment to check on his brother. It looked like they were backing him into a corner, but then Sam saw what he was aiming for and grinned.

When Dean was sure there was nowhere else to go he stood still and waited for the next blow. Sure enough the biggest (and probably the dumbest) brought the large leg bone over his head. Dean moved at the last minute and the leg missed him but damaged the once lovely gardenia.

The witch, who had been too late in stopping her own death, fell upon the earthen floor, coughing up… flower petals? She grasped her throat and hacked and soon her mud men turned dry and crumbled to the ground. The souls went into a frenzy, zipping around the place in happy zigzags and going through the walls. In all the excitement no one notice the one lone soul floating slowly to the body on the table. The brothers watched as the old hag fell to her stomach and reached to the sky. To whom or what neither of them knew, but she soon went limp and her body turned to dust. They watch the last few of the souls leave the room and noticed the one soul sinking through the chest of the body. They hurried to the table to investigate and by the time they got there the soul had already been absorbed.

As soon as this happened the eyes shot open and the back arched in the wracking pain of the first breath, the hands shook and the toes curled. They both watched in disbelief as the once lifeless body became fully animated in the throes of a fit. Dean grasped the table's edge so hard that his knuckles turned white and he almost forgot to breathe. When the body calmed down, slowing to twitches they looked at the lidded eyes of exhaustion, the red cheeks, and the sweaty brow. His pained breathing was the only sound in the room.

"Andy?" Dean asked in a hoarse but hopeful voice.

He looked around, confused and sweaty.

"Who am I?" he asked in wonder and then turned to Dean.

"Who are you?"

~*~

Review pleez!


End file.
